


The Best Man's Wedding

by JosieMarieVivianWilkins



Series: One-Schitt's/One-Shots [2]
Category: Schitt's Creek, Shameless (US)
Genre: AU, Crossover, M/M, Oneshot, Roadtrip, Wedding, comparing notes, grooms, kind of canon compliant a little, request
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-15
Updated: 2020-07-15
Packaged: 2021-03-05 06:42:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25290007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JosieMarieVivianWilkins/pseuds/JosieMarieVivianWilkins
Summary: Ian and Mickey road-trip out to town after the wedding to avoid Terry's wrath and end up in Schitt's Creek.Oneshot request for Jools10
Relationships: Ian Gallagher & Mickey Milkovich, Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich, Patrick Brewer & David Rose, Patrick Brewer/David Rose
Series: One-Schitt's/One-Shots [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1832116
Comments: 6
Kudos: 71





	The Best Man's Wedding

**Author's Note:**

> "I was hoping for a cross over fic where David from Schitt's creek and Mickey talk about their wedding and argue over which one is better"
> 
> I loved the idea of this but actually really struggled to put the parts together how I wanted, so I'm sorry if I didn't do this justice, Jools, but I tried. I tried! *insert maniacal laughter*
> 
> Anyways, enjoy and let me know what you thought or send me a prompt or smth on Tumblr - thebestpartofthecarrotcostume.

They had discussed road-tripping across the states during their closeted days, about how, if Terry ever caught wind of them, they could just pack up the Gallagher van and be gone before the sun even had a chance to crawl out of bed for the day. And that’s exactly what they did after receiving Terry’s wedding present – the early morning drive-by shooting. After some brief pest removal, a couple of duffle bags crammed with clothes, and a Wal-Mart stop for a porta-potty and supplies, and they were out of Chicago with rushed goodbyes and promises to check in every few days. It would almost be an exciting honeymoon if it wasn’t for the fact that it was an act of self-preservation.

North America.

Ian had decided that going north would be symbolic in that they were quite literally moving up in the world. And after getting his way with the wedding – right down to those sexy Chiavari chairs – he was in no place to deny Ian anything, and so he had simply followed the I-90 West and allowed Ian time to decide on their destination further.

“I’ve got it, Mickey.” Ian’s words came in after about four hours of driving. “VICE has given us the answer.”

“Oh, yeah?” He turned down the radio. “Tell me where we’re going then?”

“Okay, so VICE basically released this guide of ‘the most random’ cities in North America. It sounded like a total white-girl trip until I saw the name of one of these places.” Mickey didn’t answer, simply raising his brows high in question until Ian elaborated: “Schitt’s Creek.”

“No, we’re not going back to the South Side, Ian.”

“No, seriously, it’s a real place! Among others, and we’re going to all of them!”

And that was how, a week later, they ended up driving into a town that had a sign of two people watching a blonde chick bending a dude over like Ian would to him when they would have a quickie. ‘Random’ was one word to describe it. Maybe ‘weird’ or ‘fucked-up’ would be more appropriate, though, with a sign like that.

“I honestly didn’t believe this was a place, man,” Mickey mumbled as he flicked the stub of his cigarette out of the van window and left his arm resting on the windowsill. “So, does it say about shit to do here?”

Ian hummed as he scrolled through his phone before saying “Umm, there’s a motel – good prices apparently – a café, bar, and some escape room.”

“Oooo-kay. And this place is on the list _why_ , then?”

“The list never said ‘great’, it said ‘random’.”

Chuckling lightly, Mickey shrugged, brows high. “Point. Oh, is this the motel you were talking about?”

As they travelled through the small town, passing a handful of shops, what looked like the café his husband had mentioned, and farther down the road was the motel he assumed Ian was referencing. Generally, they stopped in the van, but they had done that for the past week, so a motel seemed like a reasonable expense. Besides, it would nice to fuck in an actual bed and have a hot bath (low-pressure showers in service stations just didn’t quite make the cut). The parking lot of Rosebud Motel was pretty empty save for something that looked older than the van and some blue chick car. A good sign that at least they wouldn’t be turned away, but he imagined that they didn’t exactly get many people coming through the town for a motel anyway.

Walking into the small reception area, they took in the dull room as a petite brunette greeted them. “Hi, welcome to the Rosebud Motel. I’m Stevie and I’ll be here if you need anything during your stay. How can I help you?”

As Ian went to speak, they were interrupted by the door opening and a blond man sporting a hideous mullet and dated flannel entered, grumbling “Stevie, the toilet in room four is the waterfall at Willy Wonka’s factory in reverse, so block that one-”

“Roland, we have guests!” Stevie’s words came through gritted teeth, her eyes wide as she tried to force a smile for their sakes. “This is Rol-”

“Roland Schitt, mayor of the town and co-owner of this fine franchise.” Roland bowed lowly, his cap slipping slightly, as he said in a grand voice “At your service.”

Ian elbowing him in the ribs hard had him biting back any comment. “Ian. And this is Mickey. Can we get a room for a night?”

Smiling, Stevie tapped on the mouse a few times before looking from the computer monitor to them and saying, “With room four blocked off, we only have doubles available. That gonna’ be okay for you guys?”

Smirking, Mickey turned to Ian and asked mockingly “What do you think, Ian? A double gonna’ be okay for us?”

“I mean, it is our honeymoon, so I had been _hoping_ to share a bed.” He looked into Mickey’s eyes before nodding curtly, the grin evident in his own eyes before he turned to smile at Stevie. “Yeah, I think we’ll manage with a double.”

The discomfort was washed away by relief as Stevie laughed softly and tapped away on the computer, about to ask them a question when the infamous Roland cut her off again. “You guys are gay? That’s great! We have our own gay couple in town, got married not too long ago either. You should meet them, they’re great guys; run the store in town – Rose Apothecary.”

“Is he serious?” Mickey’s dark brows were raised high in disbelief.

Before Ian could respond, Stevie (clearly the one with customer service knowledge) cleared her throat loudly as she apologised to them. “Please, umm, accept my apologies on behalf of Rosebud Motel. Roland was just heading out, _weren’t you_ , Roland?” If looks could kill, Stevie’s would be sat in the electric chair.

“I was actually gonna’ use the phone to call-” Stevie’s throat clearing again and daggers being sent in the older man’s direction had him changing his tone quickly. “Umm, yeah, I’ll go outside, I’ll get better signal on my cell.” He opened the door, calling an “I’ll put it on an expenses form,” behind him as he left and closed the door.

“Honestly, I am _so_ sorry about him. He doesn’t mean to be like that, it’s just…” She was lost for an explanation.

“He wasn’t calling us AIDS monkeys, so it’s fine, we’ll get past the stereotyping.” Ian chuckled as he pulled his wallet from his jeans pocket and asked, “How much will it be?”

“Umm, let’s call it thirty after that. Again, I can’t apologise enough.”

Ian handed over the notes, accepted their keys, and they were gone before Stevie could apologise again, transferring a few belongings for the night from the van before settling into the room. Both indulged in having a bath at their disposal before Ian’s stomach growled as they lay on the bed watching a _How I Met Your Mother_ rerun.

“The beast demands sustenance,” Ian declared in a strange, deep voice, as though he were reading one of Franny’s bedtime stories.

Clicking his tongue, Mickey grabbed at his crotch. “Got some protein right here!”

“Later. Now, I need real food, or you know what happens with my pills.”

“Good shout. We don’t want them to have a second chocolate toilet! So, your guide said about a café?”

*

Much as the town was small, there wasn’t a shortage of its inhabitants flooding into _Twyla’s Café Tropical_ , which honestly didn’t seem very tropical in Mickey’s opinion. The only thing remotely tropical about it was how hotel reps always came to shove their nose in your business when you really didn’t want them to (so watching _Benidorm_ was his understanding of a vacation, it was close enough!). And their rep came in the form of Roland Schitt, who had more shit coming from his mouth than his surname.

“Mickey, Ian, hi! Great to see you again! Let me get you guys a drink for, err…” The scruffy man waved his hand dismissively over his shoulder, “Twyla, the same again for our guests on my tab, thanks.” And then he was pulling a chair from the table beside and parking himself at the foot of their booth, leaning his elbows on the table as he asked what they were talking about.

Exchanging an uncomfortable look, the newlyweds stammered a little before Ian said, “Oh, we were just about to check in with our families whilst we waited for our food.”

“Oh, yeah? There many calls to make? Should I get a drink while you do that?”

Jesus, this guy was dense. How on earth had he managed to become the mayor of an entire town?

Rubbing a hand up the back of his neck, Mickey exhaled slowly before clearing his throat. “It’s a private affair actually, thanks.”

“It’s okay, guys, you won’t even know I’m here.”

“Jesus! I’m going for a smoke, so you guys won’t notice me either,” Mickey huffed, shoving his way out of the booth and exiting the café promptly. His cigarette didn’t last particularly long as he puffed away on it as though it might disappear if he weren’t quick. Clearly, not quick enough, though, because it had been enough time for their booth to gain two more guests. Frowning at his husband in question, Mickey slide in beside him.

“Mickey, this is David and Patrick I was telling you guys about – owners of the store!” Roland clapped him on the shoulder firmly, lucky to have his arm intact with the way he was grating on his last nerve. “I told you, you guys’ll get on great.” He drained the rest of his drink before declaring a need for the bathroom and leaving quickly.

“We’re sorry about him,” the shorter of the new additions to the table said, casting a glance in the direction of Roland’s retreating form.

“Yes. Honestly, the guy has _no_ social skills whatsoever. And, I mean, the blatant stereotyping that we would get on because we’re both in same-sex marriages is highly insulting.” Rolling his eyes, the taller scoffed. “I am not as basic as that. Right, Patrick?”

Patrick shook his head, agreeing with his husband as he said, “Of course not, David. Anyway, we should probably let Ian and Mickey get on with their evening.” Sliding out of the booth, he stood to go to another table, but simply turned back to the newcomers uncomfortably. “Umm, could we possibly impose until a table becomes free?”

“Next round is on you guys, then,” Ian laughed, squeezing Mickey’s knee under the table.

“We can do one better, can’t we David?”

Taken aback, David looked to Patrick with a confused expression. “We can?”

With a simple shrug, Patrick explained, “We made a nice profit this month, figured we could go to The Wobbly Elm and get some Zhampagne to celebrate. I may have convinced Jocelyn to cover the store opening for us tomorrow.”

“Oh, aren’t you just… a romantic little thing?” Mickey cocked a brow as David wagged his finger at his husband in a peculiar manner, as though teasing a small child. If Ian had done that to him, he probably would have said some choice words and bitten that finger hard. Of course, it would most likely have ended up turning in to sex, but that was beside the point.

“I am. So, do we have a deal?”

Mickey and Ian exchanged looks, silently conferring, before Mickey eventually shrugged and nodded.

As it turned out, by the time a table had become available, the four were deep in conversation between their food – well, Patrick and David were.

“You’re wearing a fuckin’ skirt, man!”

Rolling his eyes, David snapped, “And you’re dressed like Elvis! We both know that only one of those fashion choices is on-trend right now, don’t we?”

“Nah, fuck off, it’s a classic look! Better than Bond wore it, man!”

“And now you’re wearing sleeveless flannel, honey. My point completely.”

Patrick placed a hand on David’s arm, looking to him firmly. “Can you please not insult the people whose dinner we crashed, David? Not everyone is as fashion-conscious as you.”

Taking a sip of his drink, Mickey chuckled behind his cup at the couple before him. In comparison, he and Ian seemed so rough and brash against the two men seated opposite them. Fashion wasn’t ever a concern for them, simply a question of ‘is it clean?’ and a sniff-test each morning.

“Maybe not, Patrick.” David picked up Mickey’s phone again and zoomed in on the picture that he had been looking at. “Are those gold Chiavaris?”

Eyes wide, Mickey gave Ian a look as to say ‘I told you it made a difference’. “Finally, someone who _appreciates_ the finer details! Ian thought the black ones were fuckin’ acceptable!”

David put a hand to his chest, expression clearly showing his disgust. “Ugh! Honestly, sometimes I wonder why we put up with this.”

“Nine inches is why I do!”

“Oh. Well, yes, I’m sure you’re a _very_ well looked-after man.”

“ _David!_ ” Patrick frowned at his husband.

“I would like to clarify that Patrick is of above-average length and ample girth.” He wrapped an arm around Patrick’s broad shoulders, squeezing as he said, “And he also looks after me very well. He serenaded me on our wedding day, which must have taken a lot of love to do when he knows how I feel about it.”

“You loved it, David. I saw you tearing up!”

“Those were my allergies to the dust in that stuffy town hall.” It was almost amusing to see David’s façade quickly come back in to play.

Screwing his napkin up and dropping it on to his empty plate, Ian winked and said, “Don’t worry, David, Mickey here’ll tell you it was the vodka fumes that had his eyes watering.”

“Vodka fumes?” Both men before them were curious at Ian’s words.

“Umm, basically Mickey’s dad burnt down our original venue on the morning of our wedding and we had to find a place short notice and we ended up doing it at a local place called _The Polish Doll_ , and… turns out it’s not just a Russian thing to drink vodka like water.”

The looks of horror staring back at them were comical. The other couple looked back and forth between themselves, as though attempting to confirm that they had both heard correctly. “I don’t think we could compete with that,” David mumbled, “we were just rained off…”

“Dad’s a homophobic asshole with criminal tendencies. I’m honestly surprised he didn’t kidnap me and hold me hostage if he was that desperate to stop the wedding, to be honest.” Mickey’s tone was nonchalant, but his thoughts weren’t. He had genuinely been shocked that Terry had not gone to such lengths after his previous efforts to interrupt his son’s ‘fagginess’. “Eh, it’s fine, it’s just where we come from.” He had to bite his tongue not to tell them that if they didn’t wipe the patronising pity-filled looks from their faces that he would do it for them. Looks like that didn’t come in the South Side anymore, with people just used to the Milkovich ways. But there were different people from a different state, let alone a different neighbourhood, and they came from completely alternate worlds to them.

“So, drinks then?” Patrick raised his brows hopefully, drawing a chorus of all-too-quick agreements from the other men, uncomfortable topics forgotten for what would turn out to be a night of too many drinks that would see all four more than merry and very hungover the next morning.

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, I know times don't quite match up in that Gallavich were married in January and DxP were in April, but let's pretend their dates were switched, okay? Thankssssss


End file.
